State of Man
Forged Lord, nigh the sea
Your borders have offered me less than peace.
Was not your plea that we the poor
Should flee our teeming shores for yours?
Demanding of us salt-less chores
Defiantly we stay our course.
We fight your wars but are rewarded least
You documented us as two fifths beast.
And what of old Sam Wilson’s niece?
Great she stands amidst the brine
Casting light across the sea.
I wish that captive light did shine
Toward the life you promised me.
A two score estate
To work without force.
A sack full of seed
And a half breed horse.
Instead I see
On the seventh floor
A nine year old girl
With an X on her sores.
Oh! Lady of Freedom
Can you not hear our voice?
Adored yet withholding
Those golden doors.
And the tempest still sweeps
Through the copper and concrete
From Califia’s kingdom
To the city that never sleeps.
Why should I cry at your feet?
Have lifted every voice to say
There is no joy within your plains.
Have drifted very far away
From what you say we stood to gain.
We came and with a new name
You blessed me.
Put chains on all my veins’
Proclaim we’re all the same
Was taken off the train
And He was just an eighth of me.
Temptress of Columbia
Your robe withholds what’s underneath
Each fold is for a lie you told
That made us hope we could achieve.
I curse you for how proud you stand
Inviting us into your land
In retrospect it would seem
The torch you hold sold me a dream.